I sat down on a day off to browse the streaming content on Netflix. The Passion of the Christ appeared. I hadn't seen it since 2004, and I was compelled to revisit it by my acknowledgment of the fact that times have changed so much that such an inflammatory movie event is now something you can watch on your laptop while sitting on the toilet. When I first saw it, I was 16, a casual viewer with ADHD and a gore hound. I went to an arts school full of liberal hipsters. My interest was piqued by the notorious level of ultra-violence in the film, and rented it from Blockbuster despite the equally notorious allegations of anti-Semitism attached to the film.
Eleven years later, as a 26-year-old atheist and movie buff with staunch liberal views, I still don't see a referendum on Jews. I still don't see a guilt trip about what Jesus did for me. But I also don't merely see an exploitative gore fest. I see a portrait of mob mentality at its most primal. Neither the Jews nor the Romans are portrayed as monoliths; several centurions are outraged by the unabashed sadism of their colleagues, and while it can be argued that the Jews when portrayed as a group are viciously vindictive, the individual Jewish characters range from prototypical Old Testament zealots to compassionate but helpless characters who suffer along with the eponymous victim.
I am aware that the proof is in the pudding in regards to Mel's view of the Jewish people, not to mention multiple other long-established prejudices of his. Still, I never did, and still do not, see this film as anti-Semitic, but in fact quite the standard depiction of Christ's execution according to the Christian faith. This is the story we were all taught in church, whether you honestly believe he rose from the dead or not. If you are like me, you will see it for the mythology that it is, a legendary fable of a great ancient leader's martyrdom, much like another great cinematic epic by Gibson, Braveheart, which similarly shows a well-intentioned man in one of human history's most brutal eras summoning his people to take on the fascistic compulsions of their cruel overseers, and nobly accepting an awfully unenviable price for it.
I doubt it's the intention of a die-hard Christian like Gibson, or the remotest interpretation of many of the ideological folks for whom the film's release meant so much, to emphasize the universally relevant bandwagon effect of the masses that played a seminal role in the savage butchery of Jesus, but I suspect many atheist and agnostic viewers are moved by that theme. After all, it's the religious intolerance of the Jerusalem establishment that led to the breakthrough discipline of his teachings, and thus his indictment. It was the authoritarian influence of the Roman Empire that enforced that zealotry and allowed such sadism to strengthen the loyalty of brutal henchmen.
There are many people I respect who dislike this movie because they feel that the explicit particulars of Jesus' torture make it too unpleasant to bear and eclipse any message it's attempting to send. I don't understand that viewpoint. The message is the torture. Passion involves hardship and torment. Christian theology, upon which it's no mystery that the movie is based, extended the word to have to do with Christ's love for humanity, which compelled him to agonize and die for humanity. You watch The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, guess what you're going to see?
The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community overrun by the Roman Empire, and Jesus' message was equally alarming to both, one because he was a revolutionary, and the other because he preached a new covenant and endangered the status quo. His passion came about because of the same conformity and fear of change from which society has learned nothing, like today's Catholic bishops who are reluctant to denounce abusive priests or acknowledge the trend, evangelicals who muddle religion with politics or Muslim clergy who are silent on terrorism, all of whom have a stake in their status and power. You can see it in police forces who protect officers who shoot unarmed black men, news networks that omit reports that compromise the reputations of their shareholders. The passion of Christ is the passion of every historic reformist who took one for the team.
Eleven years later, as a 26-year-old atheist and movie buff with staunch liberal views, I still don't see a referendum on Jews. I still don't see a guilt trip about what Jesus did for me. But I also don't merely see an exploitative gore fest. I see a portrait of mob mentality at its most primal. Neither the Jews nor the Romans are portrayed as monoliths; several centurions are outraged by the unabashed sadism of their colleagues, and while it can be argued that the Jews when portrayed as a group are viciously vindictive, the individual Jewish characters range from prototypical Old Testament zealots to compassionate but helpless characters who suffer along with the eponymous victim.
I am aware that the proof is in the pudding in regards to Mel's view of the Jewish people, not to mention multiple other long-established prejudices of his. Still, I never did, and still do not, see this film as anti-Semitic, but in fact quite the standard depiction of Christ's execution according to the Christian faith. This is the story we were all taught in church, whether you honestly believe he rose from the dead or not. If you are like me, you will see it for the mythology that it is, a legendary fable of a great ancient leader's martyrdom, much like another great cinematic epic by Gibson, Braveheart, which similarly shows a well-intentioned man in one of human history's most brutal eras summoning his people to take on the fascistic compulsions of their cruel overseers, and nobly accepting an awfully unenviable price for it.
I doubt it's the intention of a die-hard Christian like Gibson, or the remotest interpretation of many of the ideological folks for whom the film's release meant so much, to emphasize the universally relevant bandwagon effect of the masses that played a seminal role in the savage butchery of Jesus, but I suspect many atheist and agnostic viewers are moved by that theme. After all, it's the religious intolerance of the Jerusalem establishment that led to the breakthrough discipline of his teachings, and thus his indictment. It was the authoritarian influence of the Roman Empire that enforced that zealotry and allowed such sadism to strengthen the loyalty of brutal henchmen.
There are many people I respect who dislike this movie because they feel that the explicit particulars of Jesus' torture make it too unpleasant to bear and eclipse any message it's attempting to send. I don't understand that viewpoint. The message is the torture. Passion involves hardship and torment. Christian theology, upon which it's no mystery that the movie is based, extended the word to have to do with Christ's love for humanity, which compelled him to agonize and die for humanity. You watch The Killing of a Chinese Bookie, guess what you're going to see?
The Middle East in biblical times was a Jewish community overrun by the Roman Empire, and Jesus' message was equally alarming to both, one because he was a revolutionary, and the other because he preached a new covenant and endangered the status quo. His passion came about because of the same conformity and fear of change from which society has learned nothing, like today's Catholic bishops who are reluctant to denounce abusive priests or acknowledge the trend, evangelicals who muddle religion with politics or Muslim clergy who are silent on terrorism, all of whom have a stake in their status and power. You can see it in police forces who protect officers who shoot unarmed black men, news networks that omit reports that compromise the reputations of their shareholders. The passion of Christ is the passion of every historic reformist who took one for the team.